unWritten: An unOrdinary Retelling
by The Tinglenator
Summary: Uru-Chan's webtoon, which is always high in the charts, could have turned into a breath-taking story of taking moral stands and finding out what justice really is. Unfortunately (in my opinion), it fell flat. Here is the beloved tale reborn from the eyes of someone who appreciates good literature and fun Japanese culture. Currently postponed.


I feel as though unOrdinary had a lot of potential which will now never be realized. It's easy to see how this could have been the case, since Uru (the creator) doesn't seem to have any sort of history in writing or crafting dialogue. So, while trying to remain true to the story, I decided to rework how a lot of things are presented and stay true to one moral standing. This was written for both readers who know the characters, and those that don't. This will be an incredibly long journey, but keep in mind that EVERYTHING- except occasional typos- is intentional. This is especially true in word use, narration perspectives, and the way I describe things. I put that out there because those who "stan" Uru-Chan are probably new to techniques.

And without further ado, I give you unOrdinary, as written by someone who only writes on their freetime.

* * *

_**OOOOO  
**_

* * *

**IT** was the book that caused me all the trouble, but you can't blame a collection of papers for the damnation of your high school life. Words scrawled across sheets of wood can't affect me. But they did. They affected everyone in the short time they were permitted to exist.

I've put a lot of thought into this. Perhaps an overabundance. You could argue it was one guy, two guys; Elaine, whom I shared a dorm with. You could even hold society accountable. Try to, at least. We could trace this back to a time when we first discovered how to create fire. I read the book. If I hadn't read it, such events as will be described wouldn't have occurred. Thusly, it's my fault.

And the book's fault.

* * *

Unordinary is about a single man defending a world of cripples. It was written not long before I got my hands on it, but it'd already been banned by that time. W. H. Doe possesses great wisdom; it's a shame he couldn't see how it ended up contradicting our societal norms to such a degree, it caused the government itself to panic. John always seemed to be trying to do the same thing as the main character. In fact, their tales are quite similar. So, instead of explaining the book, I'll explain high school. The "greatest years of one's life".

OOOO

The term "Stone Boy" is commonly thrown around in low tier dialect at Wellston Private High. Gavin Lickenstern, a mid tier, was infamous for giving students a hard time. John usually wasn't lucky. It seems the only luck he'd had, until now, was that he'd never run into Stone Boy before.

And, funnily enough, he could have kept it that way. "Say it," Gavin commanded of the smaller boy pinned against the wall. Stone Boy was missing a tie- and vest- but it wasn't uncommon for people to discard both. The vest had to be the most despised thing in the school. "You know what you really did. Spit it out!"

"Cecil said-"

"Blah blah blah." Gavin looked as bored as his gray hair ought to be. "'Green haired chicks get me going', and all that crap. Cecil wouldn't give an order to a _low tier_! Now tell me how you-"

Instead of standing, Stone Boy was suddenly on the ground. John blocked the rest of the younger boy's view as he regained a proper stance. Apparently, barreling into an unsuspecting ass was incredibly effective. That knowledge would probably be handy later. The small blond, who'd taken a few blows himself from Stone Boy, hesitated only slightly before he was off.

With students up and down the hall, Stone Boy did his best to recover quickly. Many mid tiers were familiar with John, despite the fact that the highschool was enormous, and most kids were far above the rank of cripple. He'd gotten into one too many fights last year, and this year was turning out to be worse. "Heh. I know you. _John_," Gavin chuckled. "John" was spoken with vehemence, as if the name was an insult in and of itself. It's fair to note, though, that it had effectively become such. Students had only heard the rare name fall to one boy, and they were determined to make use of that fact. "Did you want in on the fun?" Almost instantaneously, Gavin went from having glowing eyes to being a glowing form of his own. John only felt the pain of a broken arm after the purple haze had sped by, but didn't have to wait long for a familiar "Hey!".

Unlike Gavin, John's hair didn't flow as he turned. Holden had appropriately dubbed his stark black hair "greasy as fuck". And speak of the devil. "What'd you think you're doing? You almost ran into the King!" Holden's narrowed eyes flew to John. "And _you_. This has to be the third time-"

"If you're intending to inflict punishment," Arlo interrupted, "It had best be for… him." His scrutiny turned to Gavin momentarily. "I don't have time for all of this."

Holden nodded, his eyes already aglow and a smile finally appearing on the miserable face.

John stood there for another moment. It would have been wiser for a low tier to get as far away from the scene as possible, but it wasn't for a lack of wisdom that he continued to gaze at his King. Holden was right: in a short span of time, John and Arlo had bumped into each other a couple times now. Even though John practically bumped into someone every day- that meaning he got his ass kicked every other day- these encounters had planted a tiny bit of suspicion in John's subconscious. The Kings he'd known were never so tolerable. Some were as dense as a bucket, others cunning. I had told John that Arlo was of the patient and thoughtful Kings; he'd fooled me many a time. But mid tiers, elite tiers, and high tiers are savage in both their anger and boredom.

Or so, that was what John had come to find over the years. Elite tiers usually didn't have much to do with someone so low in the world's hierarchy like him. High tiers like Arlo were fewer, and spent their time barking at elite tiers or fulfilling their "duties". The idea of such a hierarchy never failed to put a scowl on John's face.

Finally, Arlo's eyes flitting away woke John from his pent up rage-induced trance. A cripple and a King had stared each other down.

The King had averted his gaze first.

OOOOOO

The rooftop was always my favoured place to stay. If you leaned against the fence and looked into the sky, which appeared to be so near, it was quiet and calming. Few birds soared ahead on streams of warm air, and collections of water droplets came in and out of view. It my personal area where I could retreat to do as I please and collect my thoughts, if ever necessary. My attention was seldom for anything but the newest mobile game. It had all of my concentration, for anything less than perfect or the highest performance score was still unacceptable to me. Classes, where I had put most of my effort for the majority of my life, were the farthest thing from my mind.

It wasn't just Mother and Father who always encouraged me to attain perfection in my studies. It was everyone I had ever known, and then some. Students at school naturally expected me to be at the top of everything from an early age. I was to be the most powerful, the most intelligent, the most commanding. I was never late, and hardly absent. My grades never went below 100%. I appeared for every Turf Wars event, though they became fewer due to my renown. I was the girl who would single-handedly wipe out a Turf Wars team in seconds without any damage to myself. I was the girl who set the class example and tended to my homework every evening.

I was that girl. I'm no longer her.

She was obsessive, to say the least. Most high tiers tend to be. There was hardly anything else to occupy my time; few people were high enough in level for conversation. Nigh on every minute of every day was spent either planning how I might better perform in one way or another, or implementing said plans. There was no peace for that girl. She never once asked herself how she felt about things. She simply did things.

BEEP!

The Japanese-style music ground to a halt as a text alert appeared on my screen. 'Please hwelp! SAve me!' it read. By the time I had opened my messenger app another notification wormed its way onto the screen. So, too, had a smile wormed its way onto my face.

**OOOO**

The infirmary was quiet. If anyone was there, John and I rarely knew it. We were regulars only because of John's attitude, which hardly boded well with most mid tiers. I could see distaste engraved on Daren, the doctor's, face. Few things failed to deepen the constant frown, which sat above a chin that hadn't seen a shave in a day or two. We made eye contact before I began to make my way over to the beds. It was the kind of awkward thing where neither person looks awkward. Though I respected his word, I had no reason to fear him. He had a dislike for most students who provided him his job, and he wasn't a favourite of mine. However, I genuinely think he had students' best interests in mind, which was exactly what John needed sometimes.

"John," I said in way of greeting when I found him on the nearest bed. There was a cup filled with evidence of a green liquid, matching the cast on his arm.

"Sera!" His eyes lit up a bit. The joy on his face was always evident. That might have made it appear fake to some people, but I always assumed it to be real.

"Did you get beaten to a pulp again?" I couldn't contain a grin.

"Hey!" He managed to sound defensive without looking the part. "It wasn't _really_ my fault. Besides, Doc won't let me leave for another three hours."

"Well, that sucks for you. The teachers will be wondering where I am…"

"Are you kidding me?" He made room on the bed. "You never show up to class anyway."

I pushed out my bottom lip a little. "Will you play Floppy Pig?"

He rolled his eyes dramatically. I knew it would be a 'yes' before I asked.

**OOOO**

"Check it out!"

His phone's screen presented his new high score: 187. "Impressive." I admitted. I could slouch back and relax on my throne for a while longer. "But…" I shrugged, and let my own screen speak for me.

"**212**?!" He looked up at me. "That's not even fair! You cheated!"

"Look, it's not my fault you don't have an ability," I retorted. In the brief moment of silence, we could hear Daren picking up the phone, answering it politely, and then slamming it back down. The next thing we knew he had stormed over to the door of the infirmary.

"I'll be back in _two minutes_!" he declared much louder than necessary. "Both of you stay EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE."

John looked over with his carefree grin. "Don't worry, Doc, Sera's here to keep me company."

He grumbled something underneath his breath as he nigh on tugged the door off its hinges and slammed it back into place. As soon as he'd left, John and I shared a knowing look. Daren hadn't even turned down the hallway by the time we closed the door behind us. Unfortunately, we weren't quick enough.

"HEY!" A familiar boy with grey hair called. His left cheek was mashed a nasty few shades.

He had only taken a few steps towards grabbing John's collar when I said, "Halt." I wasn't nearly as loud as his shout, nor obnoxious as his demeanor showed he tended to be. I could feel a power activate within me, and I already knew subsciously from experience that my eyes were glowing. If we were beastly animals, it would be termed a threat display. I noticed Gavin shrink away like prey.

But Gavin already had a target; John. A dangerous glint returned to his eye like some stupidly starved animal. "Seraphina. They say you were tough at some point, and here you are hanging around a cripple." He was now an inch or so closer to the boy he had just sent to the infirmary half an hour ago. "So why don't you sh-"

I felt the vibration through my palm as I instantaneously slammed his head into the nearest wall, though the sound was slightly worse. He sunk to the ground and grabbed his head, moaning. When I looked back to John, he wasn't showing the faintest hint of remorse. "Where are we going?" I asked.

Gavin stood once more, using the wall as support. "You bitch!" he cried as he swung his fist wide. It was an easy thing to dodge. Soon enough, the mid tier had lost his balance and was hitting the floor heard.

John was not about to wait for another cue. "Woaba Boba?"


End file.
